


I've Seen Angels Fall

by Heather_Night



Series: You Know My Name [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bruises, Hurt Peter Hale, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Peter Hale, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: Peter wasn’t even trying to be stealthy anymore but it was like Stiles was in his own little world, numb to anything going on around him.The keys fumbled out of Stiles’s hands and fell to the dull brown carpeting.  Peter rolled his eyes but leaned over to retrieve them, his lips parting to make some sarcastic comment but—Crack!





	I've Seen Angels Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Here is part three of a five-part spy 'verse. I don't think I need to call attention to anything warning wise but if you disagree please let me know.

Peter had kept his word.

He’d worked with Stiles on his self defense moves. He’d also made sure the young agent had both a knife and gun he was comfortable using. 

Most importantly, Peter stood guard even when the young man was unaware of his presence.

Gerard Argent had much to answer for but trying to kidnap Stiles was the most egregious in Peter’s opinion. 

The question remained whether their covers had been blown or if Argent was into more than material acquisitions; human trafficking had definitely become an issue the agency could no longer ignore. Although some of Stiles’s coworkers, chiefly Narcissus, found it hard to believe someone would target Stiles, Peter could see why someone would covet the young man. Peter certainly did.

Peter thought the agency had become a little lax in regards to security so he had taken it upon himself to ensure Stiles made it home each night. That would change tomorrow night as Peter had a new op and wouldn’t be available. He was considering reading Lydia into his little side project since she was really the only other agent he trusted with Stiles’s life.

For now Peter observed as Stiles pulled his blue and black 1980 Jeep CJ-5 into the underground parking area of his apartment building. He’d parked his own borrowed sedan around the corner while Stiles drove the one-way streets to make his approach into the parking structure. Using the juniper bushes for cover it was ridiculously easy to slide beneath the garage door after Stiles used his keycard to access the area, darting out of sight as the Jeep braked in its assigned stall.

Stiles kept his head down and shuffled toward the elevator. It ticked Peter off that Stiles wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings; just because he was home didn’t mean he was home free.

Safety first!

Once the elevator door slid shut, Peter sprinted up the stairwell. He emerged on the third floor before the elevator dinged and quietly closed the door, hovering in the shadows.

Stiles disembarked, head still down, his hand in his pocket presumably searching for his keys. 

Peter would definitely be addressing the need for situational awareness at all times with his…he wasn’t sure how to categorize Stiles. More than a friend? Not yet a lover? Stiles was definitely something beyond coworker. Peter had definitely taken Stiles under his wing, making him a bit of a mentor, but that wasn’t the feeling the young man endangered in him.

Frustration. Longing. Laughter. 

Affection.

Peter wasn’t even trying to be stealthy anymore but it was like Stiles was in his own little world, numb to anything going on around him.

The keys fumbled out of Stiles’s hands and fell to the dull brown carpeting. Peter rolled his eyes but leaned over to retrieve them, his lips parting to make some sarcastic comment but—

_Crack!_

Pain stabbed into Peter’s right cheekbone and it was so unexpected, and it hurt like a motherfucker, he couldn’t say anything. He waited for the stars blinking in his field of vision to clear.

“Oh my God, Peter, are you okay? I didn’t know it was you! I’m so, so sorry.”

Stiles’s elbow had connected with Peter’s face, a textbook defensive maneuver. Peter’s groin would’ve taken the strike if he hadn’t bent over to pick up the damned keys. The hand not clutching the right side of his face moved below the waist to cover his junk protectively, an acknowledgement of what could’ve been. 

So much for having to issue a scolding; it seemed as though Stiles had been paying attention to his training. His right cheekbone was definitive proof.

“What the hell were you playing at? I thought you were ignoring your training, not paying attention to your surroundings.” Peter cupped his eye and cheek as Stiles scooped up his keys, unlocked his door, and guided Peter into his apartment. The younger man steered him over to the couch and settled him down before disappearing into what Peter assumed was his kitchen. 

A moment later Stiles reappeared with a bottle of Advil, bottled water and a bag of…frozen peas?

“Take the pain reliever and then let’s get your face iced down.” Stiles was kneeling down in front of him and Peter had to admit he liked having the younger there, between his legs. It was too bad Peter’s face ached so badly he couldn’t do anything about it.

Peter complied with Stiles’s orders, downing two pills with the water. When he was finished swallowing, Stiles leaned forward and pressed the bag of frozen vegetables carefully against Peter’s cheekbone.

“Why do you have a bag of frozen peas? What self respecting twenty-something keeps frozen vegetables in their freezer? Unless it’s for moments like this when you’ve decked your dates.” Peter huffed in mild annoyance. 

Make-up would cover any bruising and the pain reliever would address the ache so Peter should just be satisfied Stiles had applied his learning. He wasn’t that self-sacrificing though; it hurt!

“I, uh, like to cook sometimes. I was going to make Tuna Noodle Casserole. My mom’s recipe calls for peas.” Stiles was gnawing on his lower lip, eyes downcast, looking very guilty. 

This would not do. Stiles was made for smiling and laughter. And sex. Perhaps before sex they should dine. “Are you inviting me to dinner?”

“You did mention being on a date earlier.” Stiles peaked upward, from beneath thick eyelashes. “Do you want to eat with me? I mean I did just elbow you in the face. I thought you’d be mad at me.” 

The coquettish effect was spoiled by the subdued tone. A subdued Stiles was Peter’s least favorite Stiles. 

“Of course I’m not upset with you. I’m heartened you were actually paying attention to your self-defense training. I wish you’d taken someone else out with your elbow but at least I know you can defend yourself ably. Now how about that dinner?” Peter had planned to invite the younger man out to dinner at some point. Or in to dinner. No time like the present.

“Do you want to sit with me in the kitchen while I put the casserole together? I can run out and get you some actual ice once I’ve put the dish in the oven.” Stiles continued to stare up at Peter, brown eyes big and eager, and Peter melted.

Who was Peter kidding? He was intrigued by the young agent, maybe actually smitten. He’d been protective of him—downright over protective if he was being honest—as soon as he’d met him. The whole op with Argent at the restaurant and Stiles’s failed abduction just intensified his feelings more quickly.

Peter rose to his feet and held out the hand not holding the peas to his cheek. Stiles clasped it and Peter pulled him to his feet. He might have tugged a little too hard, yanking Stiles into his chest.

Peter nuzzled Stiles’s soft hair. “That sounds lovely. But only if you kiss my injury and make it better.”

Stiles stood at about the same height as Peter, maybe even a smidge taller, so it was easy to transition from hugging to kissing. Peter let Stiles initiate the kiss, enjoying the press of those soft, bowed lips against his own—

“Ouch!” Peter drew back and touched his lip. Apparently Stiles’s elbow had made contact with his mouth, too.

Stiles drew back, contrition pursing his lips and pulling his eyebrows together. “I think I have a bag of frozen green beans, too. Let’s switch the peas out for the green beans.”

Peter let Stiles tow him into the kitchen area. A table was pushed into the corner with only two chairs. Stiles steered Peter into one of those Windsor-style dining room chairs. A cushion tied to the seat made the wood tolerable and Peter scooted it around so he could watch Stiles bustle around the area.

True to his word, Stiles changed out the peas with green beans, this one a larger bag so he could apply it to his right eye, cheekbone and mouth. 

The scene was rather domestic and Peter wondered how Stiles would feel if he were set loose in an upgraded kitchen. Peter had state-of-the-art appliances, enjoyed cooking himself, but rarely made time for it. Creating dishes for one wasn’t worth the energy but cooking for two…yes, Peter thought he would enjoy the experience with Stiles by his side.

The pain reliever, in conjunction with the cold compress, was working wonders on his injury. It was time to get his flirt on but first he wanted to assuage his curiosity. “So Stiles, when did you know someone was following you?”

Stiles set the water to boil for the noodles while pulling out the other ingredients. He flashed a look over his shoulder. “I suspected something when I turned onto Park Street since I didn’t recognize the car. I saw someone roll under the garage door and that was the clincher. Although it could’ve been someone just seeking entry into the building, I thought I’d see what happened.”

“So it was a ruse the whole time? You were lulling me into a sense of false security.” Peter acknowledged Stiles’s well-executed plan.

“When I got off of the elevator I sensed someone down the hallway. If someone had a gun and wanted me dead, my plan wasn’t going to work but that didn’t seem likely. It was easy enough to play along and lure the perp close enough to disarm them. I never dreamed you’d be the perp.”

Peter pulled the green beans away from his face, touching the sore areas. The right side of his face was currently numb so he set the bag onto the table. “Yes, well, I’ve been a bit concerned for your safety.”

Stiles paused from his measuring and stirring. “You mean this isn’t the first time you followed me? I thought you were just testing me out before my next op.”

A bit chagrined now he’d let the cat out of the bag, Peter still smiled. “I didn’t know you’d been cleared by medical. What are they going to have you do?”

Stiles shrugged as he continued to stir together ingredients. Peter didn’t like having Stiles’s expressive face turned away but at least he could read the other man’s body posture. Relaxed. Maybe content.

“Lydia told me I’d find out tomorrow. What about you? Are you being sent out of town?” Stiles set the spoon down and turned to give Peter his attention.

“Excellent question. I won’t know until tomorrow. What’s with all of the super top secret precautions?” Peter enjoyed teasing Stiles.

The other man didn’t let him down with his response, an eye roll and smile. “I know, right? It’s like we work for someone who doesn’t trust us. Or is incredibly paranoid.”

The oven beeped its readiness and Stiles drained the noodles, adding them to the concoction, stirring everything one last time. He set the timer over the oven and slid the casserole dish inside. Turning around he slapped his hands together, miming wiping something from them. “We’re about forty-five minutes out from dinner. How about I get you some more ice for your face?”

Peter crooked his finger and beckoned Stiles over. The time for pretenses had passed. He was attracted to Stiles and the bulge at Stiles’s crotch indicated he felt likewise.

Splaying his legs, Peter latched on to the denim belt loops and reeled Stiles in. “I don’t think ice is what I need.”

Stiles gently touched around the injured areas on Peter’s face with his fingertips, wincing. “I don’t know, this looks pretty tender.” 

“It will heal. What I want is heat.” Peter matched his actions to his words, palming the erection tenting Stiles’s jeans. 

A slight gasp, white teeth gnawing at a full lower lip, and Stiles swaying closer seemed enough of an answer. Peter kept one hand on Stiles’s filling cock, his other kneading the full buttocks. “Bedroom? I don’t want our first time together to be across the kitchen table. That’s more second date territory.”

Stiles giggled but since the noise was in the lower range, it was melodious instead of tedious. Oh yes, they seemed well matched. At least Stiles was hitting all of Peter’s buttons when it came to a sexual partner; he could only hope Stiles felt the same.

Stepping backward, Stiles held his hands out to help Peter to his feet. Peter quickly rose to standing, hands clutching Stiles’s hands, pushing the other man’s arms behind his back. The position pushed Stiles’s thighs and pelvis against Peter’s, his back arching away.

Peter leaned forward and pressed his lips to Stiles’s. Stiles whimpered and that was enough to change the tone of the kiss from sweet and gentle to fierce and commanding. Peter’s lip gave a dull throb but he ignored it in favor of the throbbing of another part of his anatomy.

He wasn’t sure why he’d been led to believe Stiles was perhaps innocent and lacking in experience because the man in his arms was no shy kitten; their tongues thrust together, dueling, in time to the thrusting of their cloth covered dicks. 

Due to the angle Peter pushed Stiles’s body to, Peter was holding up the majority of the other man’s weight. It was an undeniable turn-on how Stiles ceded that control, and trust, to him.

“Bed. Now.” Peter growled.

Stiles shivered but he pushed upright, grabbing Peter’s hand, pulling him through the apartment to one of two doors. Stiles had a queen size bed with a brown, bronze and cream-colored comforter. Stiles’s pale body would look magnificent against the backdrop.

Usually Peter would focus more on the foreplay and seduction but right now he wanted. Wanted Stiles. Wanted inside of Stiles.

The phone in Peter’s pocket vibrated. It was a communication he couldn’t ignore. Not if he wanted to retain his top agent status.

“Is that a phone vibrating in your pocket or are you just happy to see mw?” Stiles quipped.

Peter swatted his ample ass in reply as he dug out the offending piece of technology. It was the code signaling the need for his immediate return to the agency. “I’m sorry, duty calls.”

He expected a pout or a sarcastic comment or something other than the equanimity visible on Stiles’s face. This dating a fellow agent might just be what Peter needed. He didn’t have to prevaricate because another agent knew what his job entailed even if he wasn’t at liberty to share details. However, there were some details he could share and after some missions Peter was in need of some serious stress reduction. 

“Come back for dinner if you can. Otherwise be safe out there.” Stiles pressed a chaste kiss to Peter’s lips before linking his fingers with Peter’s and drawing him through the apartment.

“Remember to remain vigilant. And keep that elbow handy.” Peter quipped but for once he wasn’t eager for an assignment.

Peter made himself take his leave, sprinting down the stairwell, reversing his original course. 

He vowed he would call on Stiles as soon as this op wrapped up. Life was too short not to take advantage of such an opportunity.

Rubbing his cheek carefully, Peter consoled himself that Stiles was able to look after himself…even if Peter preferred to occupy that job himself.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> The h/c prompt for this part was bruised. I thought I should try to reel in the over-the-top plot points and concentrate on advancing Peter's agenda which seems to be pretty much anything having to do with his favorite agent.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
